All Is Calm
by TheFarceHunter
Summary: Despite Ford's hardships with the Psychonauts, he believed in their honor more than any other agent. So when Truman's rescue sheds light on an old agent thought to be dead, will his faith be shaken as he fights to uncover the truth? SashaxMilla, some OC
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Psychonauts is the property of Tim Schafer. I know I have had an extended hiatus, but that's what college and writer's block does to ya. Thanks for your unending patience, folks! -Farce

One-The Descent

_Agent Nein, I have located Zanotto and I am returning to the designated rally point. _

_Good work, Razputin. We'll see you soon._

The barren, concrete warehouse was silent, but Raz could barely hear Sasha's reply. Adrenaline had taken over completely, and it was a dose of life that he would remember forever. There he was, approaching his eleventh birthday, and he was creeping through the makeshift abode of the Psychonauts' most dangerous enemy, Bombay Ellison.

The man was a demon, a genius, and he was solely responsible for Ford Cruller's mental annihilation. A cocky, younger Ford had traced his movement like a starving predator, and after so many years spent on one target, he wanted the catch all to himself, though he knew it was far too dangerous to work alone. Within minutes of detainment, Ellison escaped arrest, challenged Ford to a duel, and left his psyche permanently shattered. It was a lesson that Truman Zanotto took worse than Cruller himself. The Grand Head respected him more than any other Psychonaut, but he wasn't about to compromise the Agency's fragile image. Even when Ford had recovered enough to resume duty, his only work with the Psychonauts was done under the table, through Sasha and Milla at Whispering Rock. Of course, Ford couldn't go anywhere without the psitanium, which is a major handicap in the field, but to incorporate him in any part in the Agency would raise more than a few eyebrows. It was well know that Ford was damaged goods, off his rocker. So what else could the remaining agents who respected him do but keep him at the campsite? It was the only way to keep him a part of the psychic world, a world in which he was once a god.

Raz had asked him why he had come along for the mission. From his post, Ford was in control: of his mind and the missions he assigned to the agents he trusted. The Psychonauts had written him off after his encounter with Ellison. He had given his life to them, and after one stupid move, he was no longer an idol but, instead, a raving fool, no longer welcome as a part of the Agency? It wasn't fair.

_"Razputin, listen to me. It's true that I can't work as an agent anymore. We live in trying times. The Psychonauts have enough problems of their own. Dealing with all of my complications is hardly on their priority list. See, Truman Zanotto is a good Grand Head, and he is a good man. He did all he could for me, and turning a blind eye to what I do at Whispering Rock allows me to contribute to the same cause through assigning my own cases. They do what they can, as a government agency with government red tape to follow. It's not always fair, Razputin, but with time I have let a lot of my anger go, and I know that Truman tries his best to stick to the Psychonauts code of never turning on their own. In order to call myself a true Psychonaut, I have to follow that code, too."_

Ford's words always meant more to Raz than anyone else's, simply because he followed them with his actions without fail. As the boy left his thoughts fade and slid gracefully through the dark, his resolve was even stronger. He was going to save the Grand Head of the Psychonauts, no matter what! His clairvoyance caught sight of five metal bars, which he bent with little trouble. The extraction seemed too simple, but Raz was busy freeing the Grand Head from a stiff pair of psitanium handcuffs and didn't entertain the thought for long.

"Sir, I know this isn't the best moment to introduce myself, but it is an honor to finally mee-"

The lights flickered. Raz's hands twitched, and he could feel the Grand Head's anxiety on his skin. He quickly returned to the lock and blasted it open.

"That can come later, boy! Let's move!" The Psychonauts cloaked their auras in invisibility and made their way through a hallway tattooed with graffiti. A bloated henchman turned to look at Truman's cell after an extended nap, but after noticing the missing body, he rushed to the makeshift prison and tried to sniff out the prisoner's aura. Several more cronies followed, and suddenly, the two found themselves sprinting from the approaching group.

_Shit, why didn't I think of this before?_ Raz yanked a confusion grenade from his mind and knocked the gang down like a set of misshapen bowling pins.

The rally point was close by, but Ellison was nowhere to be seen. Was he waiting for them to taste the first solid thought of freedom, only to catch them there, two feet from the door, and drag them back into the murky silence?

_He could be around the corner, Sir. Please let me check the perimeter before we go further._

Raz pounced forward with his usual acrobatic grace. He scanned left, then right, and he checked the psychic energy traces and movement from the ceiling and from behind.

_There's nothing. Let's get outta here. _ He led Zanotto outside, though the Grand Head was sure in his own steps. In image, though, he was a mess: his typically slicked-back, grey hair was hung haphazardly near his tired, brown eyes. His suit jacket was missing and the matching pants were soiled with what looked like rusty water and grease. Sasha's sharp whisper from the rally point cut through their anxiety.

"Razputin! Truman!"

The ride home was a refreshing breath of relief. Lili was thrilled to see her father safe, and even more so to see her boyfriend as the hero. Sasha, Milla, Ford, and Oleander watched proudly as the Grand Head finished thanking them for the rescue and moved on to their star pupil.

Razputin was nervous; the flinch back in the warehouse was still on his mind, and he was having a hard time preparing himself as Truman Zanotto approached, almost as if in slow motion in his overwhelmed mind. He looked to Sasha to gain some composure, but his stomach unraveled when he received a smile that was intended to reassure. Next to him, Milla beamed with motherly love. Raz used all of his energy to shove down his nerves and smile without looking like an idiot. He was losing that battle, without a doubt.

"You may be young, Razputin, but you have ability far beyond your years. Congratulations for your achievements, and I hope to see you develop further as a Psychonaut. I know your teachers are all very proud of you." It wasn't his words that made Raz grin from ear to ear. It was the kindness and earnestness in which he spoke that made Raz feel as if all his hard work, and all of the rejection he had to fight to prove wrong had actually paid off. It was all real now.

As Raz thanked the Grand Head, Ford turned to Oleander, who fiddled with his badges to avoid the budding awkwardness between them.

"You see that? Maybe going off like that and stealing everyone's brains wasn't that bad of an idea after all." The stout man raised an eyebrow, not yet understanding Ford's logic.

"What are you smoking, Cruller? Of course it was a bad idea. Never regretted anything more." The elder shook his head and pointed to Razputin, who was nearly bursting at the seams with joy.

"There's your reason, Morry."

Oleander watched intently. Without the incident, Milla would have never let the kid join at such a young age. She was always protective of children, Morceau thought with some puzzlement. He didn't know her well enough to know her secret. Since he did not work on the field as often as Nein or Vodello, especially with Whispering Rock to look after, he felt like a stranger to the Psychonauts. Although Cruller was friendly, gave him advice, called him by a nickname, and stood up for him to Sasha and Milla after the meat circus debacle, it was only because Morceau looked after him and the campground so diligently.

_I'm no use to anyone here, anymore. This soldier's been stripped of his honor; he deserves no respect, and so he receives none._

"Let me know when we've landed. I have some work to finish." Oleander parted from the group, his thoughts depressing him. Sasha scratched his head, and Ford shrugged his shoulders before Milla could ask if something was wrong.

"Hey, don't ask me! Maybe he had to go to the bathroom." Milla smiled nervously and decided to leave her fellow agent alone. After losing control of his mind, he had been very professional in his reaction to the disciplinary measures resulting from the incident, including demotion in his rank, a leave of absence, and an assignment to a counselor. After fulfilling his tough-guy image, Milla pondered, he probably left to process the whole series of events alone. Sasha thought likewise, and he did not want to insult Oleander's pride with concern.

The immediate high from the rescue was soothing, but in their descent to HQ, tension had built along with the air pressure. Sasha and Milla began a private telepathic conversation. Raz watched with boredom, at first, but then he felt it. There, between minds, was the unfortunate purification of meaning, feelings undiluted by the muddling sounds and shapes of words. It was uncomfortable, sad and almost solid amongst the stillness. Though he couldn't understand exactly what it was that he was intercepting, he felt sorry for them both.

They arrived, at last, and dispersed for the night. After sharing a few final words with Ford, Truman took Lili home with his hand on her shoulder, grateful for the end of this day. Oleander gruffly said good night and headed for his office on the tenth floor of the impressive, modern high-rise building that was the Psychonauts Headquarters' American branch. Razputin was in awe despite his fatigue. His wide, green eyes scanned past the glass elevators and tall, bustling corridors. Before he was nearly lost in the frenzy, Sasha reached for the collar of his turtleneck.

"Careful, Razputin. We'll give you the full tour soon. You wouldn't want to get stuck in _this_ traffic at this time of night." He smirked at Milla, who seemed distracted but smiled back with her usual cheer.

"I'll show you around, darling. You'll sleep on one of the cots, downstairs. All the offices are towards the top, and the…" Milla took Raz by the arm as she led him towards the elevators. Sasha was about to leave, but Ford grabbed him firmly by the arm.

"Sasha, I have something to show you. We can't talk here. "

Author's Note: I accept anonymous reviews because I love free speech and have had only one hostile comment in my long time on this site. Thank you, and I truly appreciate all the friendly and sincere feedback I have received over the years.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- I don't own Psychonauts; Tim Schafer is the genius behind that one. I'm still sad that there's no sequel…

-Two- The Unearthed

Sasha winced at the parking lot as he looked hurriedly for his car to get back to Whispering Rock. It was packed, and they were running out of time. Ford had extracted something immensely important from the hideout, and he wanted to hear the whole story before his mentor's remaining psitanium wore off. Sure, Agent Cruller was an integral part of the Grand Head's rescue, but his involvement broke multiple security protocols, so it was wise for him to leave before an unsympathetic agent identified him.

"AG37, AG38… AG39. Here we are." The corporate cars were identical in model and color, so the only way to determine the vehicle assignment for each agent was by the license plate number. Ford counted hundreds of black sedans and immediately conjured an Orwellian fantasy in his mind. Had the psitanium supply on his back failed so soon? He didn't feel the sluggishness of his typical breakdowns, nor did he sense any of his alternate personalities. Consciousness was intact. No, it was bitterness, the only enemy worse than Bombay Ellison, which made his stomach churn at row after row of clone cars. Dispensable. He reviewed what Truman said to him before they parted.

"_Ford, you've outdone yourself again. I know it hasn't been fair, and again, I am truly sorry. "_ _The Grand Head's brown eyes softened, and his words were hushed. It was obvious that he still felt ashamed of the way his friend and finest agent was destroyed, and then discarded and mocked. He had worked hard to recover and return to the Psychonauts, and though he clearly wasn't well enough for active duty, he certainly deserved better than this; Truman knew he had failed him. He shook Ford's hand vigorously, as if he were afraid to let go. His voice sounded oddly strained._

"_You know I only did what I needed to do back then to keep the Agency alive, but it wasn't right to force you underground like that. You will get every bit of respect you deserve and more. I give you my _word_."_

The abrupt sound of a car unlocking jarred him from his thoughts. Something formed in his throat. Was it a lump or just the heat of night?

"Are you ready?" Sasha asked from inside the car, concerned that he may have lost his friend's lucidity already. Ford nodded and sat down, returning to his original business. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a bloodstained silver chain. From the chain hung a round topaz, small but bright and yellow as the sun. Sasha's eyes darted from the necklace, to the road, to Ford's face.

"You're kidding." The old man's expression remained stoic.

"Sasha, the memory attached to this necklace is only six months old. This was Agent Hann's call for help." Agent Nein's mind began to reel. He pulled the car over at the next stop, a boarded-up gas station.

"You know we can't trust this as evidence. Mari Hann died three years ago, in the HQ infirmary! Ellison is probably using a high quality fabrication to trap us." He ran his fingers through his black hair. _This is it,_ Sasha thought. _He let Truman go as part of his game. He knew we'd suspect something with such a simple extraction, but investigating was too risky with the Grand Head inside. Damn it, what is he hiding?_

"We were right to get Truman and get out. You're right. It was too dangerous, Nein. There's something fishy, here, and I'm glad you smell it, too. The memory is real; check it out for yourself."

Sasha felt the necklace in his hands. It was warm, from Ford's pocket, of course, but the sensation was still strange. He closed his eyes and let the memory fill his mind's eye.

_A dirty blonde haired woman ran down the halls of Ellison's hideout. She was wheezing heavily, and bloodied sweat trickled down her face, back, and heaving chest. The concrete echoed with the sharp pang of each footstep. Sasha squinted to get a better look; her image was clouded, since the memory was recorded in a hurry. He focused in on the girl's flushed face, and his vision cleared. He immediately recognized the grey-blue eyes, the skinny, long arms and legs, even the acne scars on her cheeks. It was Mari Hann for sure. Out of nowhere, a nasal voice boomed from what seemed to be everywhere. The frightened agent hid behind a thick pillar and held her breath._

"_That little bitch ought to be here somewhere. Find her, and I'll reward you nicely." The obese guard walking alongside Bombay grinned in delight. He ran off, powered by adrenaline and his new incentive. His brain wasn't quite as ready as his body, though, and he forgot to inspect the furthest corner of the room. Bombay Ellison expected this, wanted it. He always saved his victims for himself._

_Agent Hann sighed shakily in relief, but as she turned to look for her next hiding place, she met her captor face to face. The notorious terrorist was a ghoulish sight; his face was pockmarked and angular, and stringy black hair covered his eyes. His left thigh and calf muscles were withered away, but the rest of his body was powerfully built. Bombay was also missing a few fingers on his left hand. As Sasha watched, he noted that this was most likely from the duel with Ford. Mari was intimidated, too weak to fight her way out of the mess this mission had mutated into. Bombay strode over to her, asserting his authority through his stately posture. He licked his thin lips and lifted his head. His voracious, blue eyes pierced into her. The pictures of him in her file were eerie, but they didn't compare to reality. As Ellison whispered to her, his lips grazed her ear, passion and sickening amusement raging through him._

"_So you think you could track me down? Your little friends thought so too, but they were wrong. You were all wrong. I've got you now, Hann. There's nobody to save you. Not even the Psychonauts care about what happens to you." Mari glared at him, and in one, fluid motion, she twisted her body to run away. Bombay reacted quickly and gripped her tightly around the waist. Mari doubled over; her frail body was unable to cope with the force. She nearly fainted from her captor's grip, but it was the throbbing throughout her body that kept her conscious. _

_The images blurred again, and it took a few moments for Sasha to refocus the memory, again on Mari's face. The former Psychonaut was bruised and scratched all over. Her eyes burned with rage, fright, and pain. Fists clenched, she was ready to strike, and Sasha wished he could tell her to reconsider. Her limbs lost their strength; there was no chance of defeating Ellison in a physical battle. The madman caressed her cheek and the room went black. All that could be discerned was the sound of bone against concrete and the sickening thump of a body, collapsed to the floor in a heap._

The memory was real, no doubt about it. Ford wanted to vomit, and he did, in the trash can outside the gas station. Sasha closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the elder agent returned to the car.

"We read the reports. We read them as soon as they were finished, _before_ they were released."

"But this is six months old. Basic field work."

"What about Lena? She was her partner, and they were...well...wouldn't she, of all people, know if Mari left HQ?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling she would be the last to be told, if you know what I mean." Sasha's eyes widened as dots connected themselves, but still without a clear destination.

"They-Truman's speech-the final report- said she died in the infirmary. Lena was taken off the case the day after the funeral. She wouldn't be authorized to review the autopsy or any of Mari's reports."

"You know what this means, Nein?" Ford leaned in closer, as if even the car could overhear him. "We've got a whole lot of work to do."

The night was expanding with no end in sight. It was five in the morning by the time Sasha had returned to HQ after driving Ford to the campsite. After parking the car, he yawned as he meandered to the basement, where many agents on last-minute branch transfers and long days after a mission often spent the night. Nein found Milla and Raz in adjacent dormitory-style rooms, and he knocked as softly as he could on Milla's door. By the way she casually rose and let him in, Sasha could tell that she was waiting for him.

"Good, you're back. I was starting to worry." Their last moments together were unpleasant, as Sasha and Milla discussed their last few missions and shared some of their developing apprehensions. It was true that the two avoided each other's company during Whispering Rock, but while Sasha insisted that it was due to his overdue research, Milla felt as if the reason was more personal. She had fallen for him a long time ago. She could have sworn he felt the same way, but how would she ever get that kind of feeling out of him? He was Sasha Nein: cool, professional, and not about to change. They kissed once, on a mission long ago, but with among the years they buried it, let it dry up in their memories.

"Sasha, about earlier today-" With a quick look into Raz's room, to make sure he was asleep, Sasha interrupted with a low, soft voice.

"Agent Vodello, there's no time. Ford discovered-"

"I'm asking for a reassignment."

He froze mid-sentence. Agent Vodello was his partner of nearly a decade. Sure, things were getting complicated, so to speak, but a reassignment? He sighed. Back in the jet, he told her, in a way, that he didn't want any distractions. He didn't mean to insult her. On the contrary, he wanted to protect her. Nein wasn't going to say it that way, but Milla had felt it. It was too late.

"Is that really necessary?" Sasha was stumbling over his words, losing control over the speed and volume of his voice. _What is happening to me?_ He cared for her, so much that the only way to prevent an accident was to distance himself. Other agents unintentionally endangered their partners by getting too close. Their connection jeopardized their judgment. Missions that would have only ended badly instead became catastrophic. If he wanted her, as he knew he did, a new working partner was a logical idea. But his mind wholly rejected it. Milla felt the anxiety, and though she was pleasantly surprised at the thought of being missed, she couldn't continue to decipher Sasha's feelings and work through them for him. He was going to have to do it on his own.

"Darling, I think I understand what is going on, here." She swallowed and tried to get the gumption to say everything she wanted to say. It worked, but she found herself rambling without a chance of redemption.

"I know I can be very, well, forward sometimes, and I also know that you prefer to keep people at a certain distance. But we've been working together for a long time, and I realize that kissing you on that mission may have made things difficult for us, and I should have just come out and said all this but it's not that easy when I have to constantly figure out what you may or may not be thinking. I make you uncomfortable, but I know that you will miss me for some reason that I don't really understand. I thought you may have felt the same way, but-"

Agent Nein interrupted again. He hated it; he thought it was rude, impulsive, but he had no choice. She didn't understand at all. The difficulty of being psychic is, though you could pick up on another's thoughts as if they were your own, you never translate how they resonate in a mind besides your own. You get half the story, and the most dangerous thing you can do is assume you know the whole of it.

"I apologize; you're right in that I have not been clear. I was concerned about disturbing our professional partnership. Now that it has been affected, I must be truthful." Sasha looked down to compose himself, but he was surprised to see that his hands were already holding his partner's. He would have pulled back in embarrassment if he knew that Raz was now fully awake. He didn't know, and so Sasha Nein spoke as freely as he possibly could.

"Yes, you are incredibly forward. And yes, you have every personality trait that I lack, especially the ability to be sociable and comfortable around nearly anyone. Nevertheless, I must be frank and say that I, illogically enough, enjoy this duality. Agent Vodello…Milla… as paradoxical as it may seem, I do reciprocate your feelings."

It was strange, a bit reserved, and in the most technical terms Milla had ever heard, but it was good enough for her. She wrapped her arms around Sasha as he built up the nerve to kiss her. He was starting to enjoy it, but as he was about to get creative, he saw a pair of curious, green eyes watching them from the hallway. Raz grinned impishly and gave him a thumbs-up. The surprise was enough to stop Sasha, but Milla saw the boy out of the corner of her eye, and she telekinetically scooted him back into his room and shut the door. The graceful Brazilian turned back to her partner and flirtatiously played with his hair.

"Now then, where were we?"

In the late morning, Raz dragged himself out of bed to join Sasha and Milla for breakfast in the cafeteria. He could tell even in his sleep-drunk state that the two were discussing something serious. He approached the table and joked to himself, knowing his teachers would be too distracted by each other to read his mind.

_Well, _that_ was the shortest hookup I've ever seen. Who needs TV when you have them?_ Raz saw that he was wrong as he sat down and eavesdropped.

"It was definitely hers, and Ford and I both confirmed that the memory was no more than six months old." Agent Vodello's eyes started to tear up. Raz had never seen her like that. Sasha awkwardly stroked her hair, but stopped as he watched Raz sit.

"I can't imagine why Mari's necklace would be lying around in Ellison's base. At least, for any reason other than to mock us. But how would that memory be fresh? If you and Ford both checked it out, it must be real. I don't understand. Has anyone told Lena?" Sasha didn't want to continue on this topic with Raz present, but his protégé was already full of questions.

"You found something at the warehouse? Who is Mari? Is there another break in the case?" Sasha and Milla exchanged looks. So much for keeping Raz out of this.

"She was an old friend and colleague of ours. Some say in Sasha's case, an old _flame_." Milla jabbed Sasha gently in the ribs as his expression changed from bored to mildly frustrated.

"Ooh, Agent Nein had a girlfriend." Sasha slapped his palm to his forehead and suppressed a laugh. Raz was confused. Normally, his teacher would have been quick to dismiss any accusations of a romantic relationship, but it was clear that this wasn't a recurring joke.

"I assure you, Razputin, that no such thing ever happened. Agent Hann was a fellow student at the Academy, and she was one of the first Psychonauts permanently assigned to the Ellison case. I will tell you the details some other time." As recent events returned to the forefront of his mind, the good humor dissipated. The Psychonauts' two finest agents were carrying extremely delicate information, with details that could have implications for the case, the Agency, even Grand Head Zanotto. If they failed to handle this lead with care, they could destroy any chance they had of discovering the truth. How did Agent Hann get back into Ellison's possession? Did she die at the infirmary, as the death certificate and the Psychonauts, including Truman insist, or did she escape? Or, Sasha and Milla thought with dread, was she kidnapped right out of the Psychonauts' own base? Why was Lena uninvolved? Did she not find reason for suspicion, or had she been denied access to information concerning her partner once taken off the manhunt for Ellison? Was there a double agent involved, one who perhaps was behind the disappearance and covered it up to the Grand Head? They had no idea where the necklace and its memory would lead them, and with such limited knowledge, the agents promised each other to keep Razputin at a safe distance from their investigation.

_We have to keep him involved to some extent,_ Sasha mentally reminded his partner, _or else he'll never stop searching and get into trouble. He's also been to Ellison's whereabouts and extracted his latest target, so whether we like it or not, Razputin has been exposed._

_I know, so we'll have to move fast. Let's go back to Whispering Rock; we can work undisturbed, and Ford might be able to retrieve all of Mari's old files. We can start there._

Sasha nodded, and the two disconnected their mental link. Milla smoothed out Raz's crumpled shirt as she spoke warmly to him.

"Darling, when you're finished, grab your things from downstairs and meet us in the lobby. We're going back to debrief with Agent Cruller." Raz leapt from his seat and saluted to her with an expression of absolute eagerness.

"I'm on it!"

A/N: Here we are, chapter two! Trimming the crap out of an old, unfocused story is strangely addictive. Fanfiction lite: half the Sue of regular Fanfiction, and now fortified with 30 percent more plot…I hope. Thanks again for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Tim Schafer and Doublefine, Inc. owns Psychonauts.

Three- The Writing on the Wall-

"So, you've come back already? Couldn't get enough of me, I guess."

From the center of his Sanctuary, Ford cackled at his colleagues who, though road-weary, were anxious to see him. Raz yawned; the trip didn't take as long as he thought it would, thanks to Milla's speeding, but it was a trek nonetheless. He was too thrilled about the news, that they may be one step closer to their villain, to sleep on the ride over. Like a true Psychonaut, he was ready to help out in any way he could.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Not until you have the full details on the investigation," Sasha answered. "After we get some paperwork finished, I will give you the background information and your own assignments. In the meantime, why don't you go take the rest of the afternoon to practice? There is always fine-tuning to do." Sasha handed Raz a list of mental exercises to work on. The boy wished he could do more for the actual case, but he understood that he wasn't educated enough to do the monotonous pencil pushing that his elders had done for years as a part of the job. He left, bored but happy enough with the knowledge that he would be useful soon.

"I've got all of Hann's files from the September she started the case, until her last day in the infirmary." Ford dropped a generous stack of papers his table. Since the break in the case, he had stopped receiving new missions and shut off the monitor circling news around the room. Milla looked at the number of files and sighed. It was par for the course, but reviewing case notes was certainly not her favorite part of the job. It didn't help that Mari was known to include _everything_ she was feeling at the time into her notes.

"We can get through this," she said. "We just need to split up and pay close attention to anything that sticks out as unusual or indicates that Mari had intentions of going back. Knowing her, if she felt it, she would have written about it." Sasha nodded; he knew what to expect from her other briefs. Her writing was stream of consciousness sometimes, but the detail wasn't unreasonable.

"Agreed. Bring back any anomalies, including deviation in handwriting. There has to be something here that explains why that memory and the necklace were back there." Sasha divided the pile and scanned the chicken-scratch that clogged each page. For a diligent agent with a relatively logical head on her shoulders, Mari had quite a temper, and her terrible handwriting reflected it.

It was tedious, to say the least. If Mari Hann believed that her journals would be her and her work's last chance for survival, it would not have surprised anyone. Self-righteous and dogmatic, she was a rant away from becoming the office anal-retentive asshole. Bureaucratic issues and politics are sensitive subjects in any government office, but with her limited filter and intense convictions, the often-indignant Agent Hann was quick to offer the voice of dissent. Luckily for her, Milla was always there to cool things off. She was fond of Mari, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to understand that Milla Vodello was fond of everyone. Mari couldn't understand Milla's constant optimism but respected her pure heart and appreciation of others. Milla could do without Mari's impatience and hot-headedness, but she saw in her the fierce loyalty to truth that sits restlessly in most frustrated spirits.

There is little in this world that can nourish or wither a man more than his work. The Ellison case depleted everyone who took it on, but Sasha knew that Mari and Ford had dedicated more to the cause than most. It messed with Mari, just as it had with Cruller, but it didn't break her psyche into pieces in one blow. The stress cracked her slowly, and the longer Mari spent in the field, the more she time she spent looking over her shoulder, swearing at ghosts of old enemies in her sleep, and mostly, blowing up over nothing. Sasha remembered when Lena, Mari's partner and girlfriend (a woman patient to a fault), tried to take Mari to a therapist. There was no real violence in their relationship, but Lena could not stand to watch her fall into the uncomfortable disquiet of insanity that drenches us in all our weakest moments at once. It takes years to put all the voices of our failures in a box, far away from where we inhabit our minds, but in one moment, one delicate reminder of a past injury, the infected space in the human psyche can open and spurt forth all the noise we have worked so hard to hide. After a few uncomfortable sessions with the Psychonauts' staff counselor, Mari's pride had convinced her that seeking help of that kind was for the weak. Lena used to respect her partner for her 'pull yourself up by the boot-straps' attitude, but the thought that she would live in such arrogant denial was unacceptably childish.

From Sasha's perspective, the deterioration of their partnership, professional and otherwise, was an unfortunate given. Although he certainly did not enjoy watching two of his closer colleagues go down such a difficult path, there was nothing surprising at this point in his career about a traumatic case spreading dysfunction to the domestic life of two Psychonauts working as a pair. Sasha pictured Lena's tragic grey eyes and Mari's short fuse, and he suddenly remembered how recently he and Milla decided to take the same chance. Like Mari, Sasha resisted offers of emotional support, because they both were good at keeping themselves functional during difficult cases. The Ellison Case was different, but Sasha continued to stay tough from his heightened ability to channel his emotions, while Mari, whose psychic power was not first class, fell apart at the seams. He was aware, however, that he was becoming a more integral part of the Ellison case, and while his and Milla's abilities were much stronger than Mari's, they would still have to work very hard to preserve their sanity during frequent exposure to the madman's aura and psychological tactics.

Sifting through the files felt fruitless for all involved. Neither Sasha's files nor Milla's were yielding any tips, and Ford was about to doubt his judgment. He saw no changes in psychic energy, no unusual penmanship or erasing, and no signs of a plot to stalk Ellison to the bitter end. In Agent Cruller's hand was his last chance, an entry from Mari's final day at HQ. The rescue team found her unconscious, shaven, and bleeding profusely; it was only a few days before she was pronounced dead from a trauma-induced stroke.

_11/24/2008_

_He had us. The worst part is, no matter where we go, he has us until the end._

_I can't remember when it happened. Lena hit the floor and then it was over. I was his object, his sex doll, his test tube, his "prize", his whatever! All along, ALL ALONG. It's exactly how he works. He lets you to follow his trail so you THINK you're onto him. But you're fucked. You start the hunt, and that's it. You're finished. The minute you have a clue about Ellison, you might as well be tied up in his lab without a prayer. Damn it, what could I do? I couldn't let him get Lena. I'd rather die in that shithole of a laboratory then let him take her. _

_He knew it! He KNEW I thought she was his target, since she wasn't well and less able to fight him off, but that's what turned him away from her in the first place. Lena was too easy for him. I'm still such a worthless idiot. I wasn't thinking about the case, really. I was thinking about her. I should have gone by myself; she's lucky she got out with just a concussion. I'm a failure as a Psychonaut to be alive while he is still breathing. The worst part is, I can't go back and do it, now. He knows my aura, my scent. I'll jeopardize the whole operation if I try to get involved again. If somebody finally kills the bastard, it can't be me._

_You know, I may still be back there. I could easily be living out a rescue fantasy in my own torn-up mind. It would make sense. But I could have sworn that Lena was in my room. Somewhere in the blurred hours her freezing hands touched mine. This has to be real. This MUST be real. For how long have I been asleep? Ellison disabled my abilities for a while- I won't have them back for at least another day. The disorientation is overwhelming. I can barely feel my body. It takes all of my energy to think. Was it really two days ago, or maybe a week since I last saw her? Where is Lena?I have to make sure that she is safe. _

Scrawled below was another phrase, but this one was significantly more incoherent and hurried. Were these the insane ramblings of another agent's shattered mind, only a day or two away from death?

_**B**__u__**T**__ i was promised a drink, just like old times- just don't break the fourth wall yet! Ask John first. There's still time to build a bridge with pal Harold'S ghosts._

Ford scratched his head. This was it. He scoured her entire collection of files on Ellison, front to back, but there was nothing. Maybe he was wrong. He lowered his eyes, simmering in his own defeat.

_ Mari, I've failed you. We all have._

He didn't want to believe that his friend suffered the same mental disintegration that he had. Mari was a smart girl, but she no genius. She wasn't the type of person to get unraveled by her own eccentricity. No, Ellison wouldn't get to her in that way; if she ever broke, it would result in a flood of rage, not mad hatter riddling. This last line didn't fit. It definitely meant something, but to whom?

"Nein! Vodello! Get over here and take a look at this!"

Sasha and Milla hurried over, hearing the urgency in his voice. They skimmed down the page to the last sentence, which they re-read several times.

"What is this?" Milla racked her brain for an explanation, but she couldn't figure out the point of the final sentence. Suddenly, something clicked with Sasha.

"Only the capital letters B and T are in bold. B.T... Brain Trust. It's what Mari used to call me, as a joke. The Brain Trust. The message is for me." He smiled a little as he remembered how Lena and Mari partnered with Milla to tease him for his intellect and offbeat sense of humor.

"Great, Nein. What's next?" Ford and Milla watched anxiously as he spoke through the cryptic line again.

"I was promised a drink, just like old times. Just don't break the fourth wall yet, ask John first...We went to a bar after work occasionally. It's called Morgan's, on 24th street."

"Yes, I remember that place. Darling, breaking the fourth wall is an acting term. What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know, Milla. It might be a misdirect. I do remember a bartender named John, though. I wonder if he is still working there."

"We'll have to count on it. We don't know if he's in on the kidnapping or if he has any useful information."

"Wait, you two. There's 'Pal Harold's ghosts,' too. 'Harold' must be the antagonist, whoever he is. We should go to the bar and ask this 'John' guy what he knows. And when I say 'we,' I mean you. If the Agency hears about me asking around, Zanotto's 'see-no-evil' policy may come to an end."

Agent Nein furrowed his brow as another thought hit him. He hated the thought of entertaining conspiracy, but legitimate suspicions were building. Mari's puzzles were relatively straightforward; they seemed to be just strange enough to throw off those who did not know her and those who didn't take the time to make the connections. They were lucky that those who reviewed her paperwork were not very thorough.

"Ford, look again at the capital letters. 'Pal' would indicate a familiar version of the name, correct? Harold, Harry, and with the capital letter, S..." He trailed off as his colleagues filled in the blank.

"Harry S. _Truman_..." Their voices reluctantly chimed in. An awkward silence tainted the air.

"We're lucky that Adam in IT is an admirer of mine, as he so boldly told me in the tech lab last year. He won't report my activity to his supervisors, so Agent Vodello and I have time to inspect the bartender. Ford, I gave Razputin my word that I would bring him up to speed, but I must go while I have this window of opportunity. "

Despite his experience and sharp intuition, Agent Cruller was unsure of what to do. Razputin was a legend in the making, but he was only ten years old. He still had years of training and fieldwork ahead of him, which could prove lethal in dealing with Ellison. On top of that, if there was something in this case leading back to the Psychonauts, they also risked endangering his barely-established reputation by association. Many agents would resent him for being a part of a whistle-blowing operation, and that was the last thing any of Razputin's mentors wanted for him. On the other hand, the kid's success on his first two missions only proved to them that he was ready for more. Raz might be exactly what the Psychonauts need to finish Ellison off and get to the bottom of Agent Hann's return to the terrorist's lair.

"I'll do it. Nein, we started this assignment four years ago. With Razputin, we may have the chance to put an end to it."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Psychonauts is property of Tim Schafer/Doublefine Inc. Be sure to pick up the Psychonauts game app for Mac at the app store. Your continuous support for Psychonauts could lead to further developments, including a potential sequel. Schafer is a very talented individual; let's continue to show him and Doublefine that we like their stuff! (Sorry for the tirade!)

-Four- The Acquisition-

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we?"

Razputin was elated. Finally, after waiting and driving and sitting around doing nothing, he could be a part of the mission! While Sasha and Milla went to investigate some bar where there could be more information, Agent Cruller set up a slide projector in his sanctuary and told him all there was to know about Bombay Ellison and the ever-growing case against him.

"Bombay Ellison was a successful agent working with the CIA and the Psychonauts simultaneously for quite some time. Because of the unconventional nature of our work, the two branches carry a lot of tension between them. The government doesn't want to acknowledge the success we have, because leaking information about psychics is hardly in the public's best interest. Still, we do good work here, and whether they want to admit it or not, we are an important part of national and global security. Anyways, he was a smart guy; he came in as a mediocre psychic, but there were a lot of good ideas in that big skull of his which eventually helped bring the two agencies together. It wasn't a miracle cure or anything, but at least there was increased communication and a little more respect. For a little while, that is."

"So how did he go from that to the complete psycho that he is now?"

"Son, the thing about psychics is, not everybody comes by it naturally. We're all born with the potential for those powers, but only a select few have the capacity to use them at a high level without psychological damage. Not everyone can handle using this much elevated brain activity at once. Ellison was an incredibly intelligent person with very basic abilities. Over the years, dual agents feel a lot of pressure to fit the psychic caliber of the Psychonauts, and eventually, they buckle by going back to the CIA or by doing anything possible to perfect their skills, if they haven't already decided to hide their identities as dual agents. The way Bombay improved them was through a government-funded lab. He isn't a naturally talented psychic like most Psychonauts. Sometimes, this kind of damage happens with psychics who discover their powers in adulthood, but even they are more likely to be well-adjusted than those who strap electrodes to their skulls and zap it out of themselves."

Raz understood it well; he was told by another Psychonaut at Headquarters that a significant percentage of cases were simply accidents caused by young adults coming by their talents late and coping by acting out. It was sad to Raz that so many of these people could have avoided a criminal label if they had received the guidance they needed. Hell, it could have happened to Milla, who didn't know she was psychic until the fire in the orphanage where she worked for many cherished years. Unfortunately, the system that is necessary to monitor potentially dangerous individuals rarely takes circumstance into account.

"Every once in a while, I worry a little when I see Sasha with that Brain Tumbler contraption. I know he knows what he's doing, unlike those bumbling CIA 'extrasensory researchers,' or whatever they call themselves now. Still, just thinking about how fragile the mind is..." Ford trailed off, lost for a moment in his past. The soft clicking of the slide projector broke the static of the quiet room.

The slide was a photograph of a group standing in a cubicle with a small window at Psychonauts Headquarters. Farthest from the window was Ford Cruller, and though he still had white hair and wrinkles, there was a light in his eyes that Raz had never seen before. Sasha and Milla stood beside him, smiling as though they were in the middle of a conversation and were caught off guard by the photographer. Raz noticed how young Sasha looked, though the picture was pretty recent. His eyes were still covered by his trademark sunglasses, and he still projected the image of the awkward, analytical scientist, but the energy in his pale face was somewhat livelier. Milla's usual compassion and physical beauty gave her the aura of youth, and the Agent Vodello in the picture radiated the same genuine kindness. Next to Milla was a wiry, blue-eyed woman in a short sleeved, teal Psychonauts uniform. Her lightly pock-marked face wore an impish smirk, and one of her arms wrapped around the waist of a short-statured woman with a distinctly feminine, freckled face. She smiled gently through a pair of sad gray eyes, which were framed by straight, dark hair. Her lavender dress fit loosely on her underweight, ivory-hued body. Ford changed the slide to another picture of the two women, standing together by a marked-up whiteboard as they addressed a small group in what looked like a debriefing. He pointed at the blue-eyed, lanky Psychonaut, who tensed her jaw in frustration at the group as the dark-haired woman beside her spoke with a pleading look on her delicate face.

"This is Agent Mari Hann. Her partner, Agent Lena Frey, is the young lady next to her. The two of them started the Ellison case five years ago, after my run-in with him ended with our duel. The investigation began when the guy went batty after going too far with the procedure meant to boost his psychic abilities. The result was devastating: he became hell-bent on destroying the Psychonauts in any way he could. He tried to bomb Headquarters, made several threats of assassination, even started kidnapping and experimenting on civilians and Psychonauts of lesser skill. In his first moments of gaining all that power, he had more pure strength than any psychic I have ever seen. He didn't know how to use it yet, and that was the most dangerous part about him. I was really full of myself then, young beyond my years, you could say. I thought I could subdue him without any help. I cornered him, and as soon as I brought him down, he entered my mind and...well, you know what happened after that." The slide changed to a blurry picture of Ellison. He was nothing short of grotesque: oily, thin hair hung limply over a deathly pale face that was so deeply scarred, the skin looked like it had been shredded by a cheese grater. His left leg muscles were deformed to the point of looking like dried meat, and as Raz looked closer, he thought he saw a few gaps where fingers once were.

"After his attempts to create a psychic army failed, he started tinkering with his own brain again. This time, his abilities and his intellect skyrocketed. He became calculating, which was quite a bit harder to arrest than the impulsive guy we were dealing with beforehand. Several top-notch Psychonauts were kidnapped, tortured, and brainwashed to kill Grand Head Zanotto. After some very close calls, Hann, Frey, Milla, Sasha were recruited to the case. We tracked him to his hideout three years ago, but Mari and Lena were caught in a scuffle with Ellison and the whole thing went to hell."

Raz was baffled. These agents analyzed Bombay Ellison's every movement, every depraved thought, for two years, and they still were unable to take him down. Ford was destroyed by him, and not even Sasha and Milla, with the help of these other two capable agents, could do anything to put an end to his machinations. With his newfound power under control, he must have been unstoppable. And after such a long hiatus, how much stronger was Ellison now? Sure, extracting Grand Head Zanotto was no challenge, but Raz could tell there was more to it than meets the eye. The madman was toying with them. But then what? Would Ellison follow their tracks back to HQ? The guy was cocky, with a messianic complex and fractured psyche, but he was smart and not entirely masochistic. He wasn't about to cross their turf alone. No, Raz thought to himself, something much bigger was planned for the Psychonauts. Something to remind them that Truman's life was a gift, and that they had no reason to believe that Bombay Ellison had relinquished any real control.

"But Agent Cruller, it's been three years since he caught them. Why kidnap Grand Head Zanotto now?"

"It's the psychology of how he works. Despite all the intelligence we had on him back when Lena and Mari were on the case, Ellison went off the map completely after they were rescued from his hideout. Lena was spared, miraculously, but Mari...she was declared dead from a stroke a few days later. Lena had a head injury that resulted in Truman removing her from the case completely and placing her on an extensive medical absence, almost as long as mine. According to sources, the girl was hysterical, demanding to see Mari's body and refusing to accept that she was dead. After the funeral, Sasha and Milla were temporarily sent on another mission, since they were likely to compromise the case from their strong investment in it. They were in immediate danger; Ellison became the kind of killer who targets those who interest him, those who put the most effort into catching him. He intends to send a message of dominance, that no matter how much you try to take him down, he'll always find a way to stay in the dark until he's caught you. I was out of commission then; I could only get updates about the case from those still willing to associate with me. In fact, I haven't been able to hear or see anything about it for myself until our trip to the warehouse. Zanotto did the right thing; he knew that his two star agents would be most effective when they had a better idea of where the target was, but by the time they could return, there was no trace of him at all, physical or psychic. To cover your tracks like that requires a level of psychic ability that we have never seen before. In terms of answering your question, Razputin, I think he decided to come back after so long to prove that he still runs the show, and that there is still more to come."

"Well, now that he's come back, he's left some kind of a fresh trail, right? There's still some time to scout out his aura. Sasha and Milla had Agent Hann's necklace, the one with the memory from six months ago. I remember them talking about it after we rescued Grand Head Zanotto. She didn't die at HQ! Her partner wasn't crazy or sick- she was on to something! With you kept out of the loop, and Agents Nein and Vodello powerless by being reassigned, Ellison was free to do whatever he wanted. And because the case is so high-security, there wouldn't be more than one or two other agents involved or even near Agent Hann to question if she was dead or kidnapped. The hideout...this mission...it really was too easy. What is this, some kind of cover-up? I'm not a conspiracy theorist, but this is looking pretty messed up to me."

Raz stood up and paced, moved by the buzzing of confusion in his head. Ever since he read the pamphlet for Whispering Rock, he was inspired by the Psychonauts and their status as an elite force for justice. Now that he finally joined the ranks of those he admired, young Razputin was unable to describe the frustration and disbelief he felt at seeing the heavy implication of corruption. "We need to do something fast. With some luck, maybe we can find Agent Frey and get her help." As his legs took him towards nowhere in particular, Ford stopped him with a gentle hand. He knew how fishy the details were, but as even he didn't know the full extent of the Agency's culpability or specific names of all guilty parties, he had to make sure Razputin kept a level head. Mari implied in her notes that Zanotto was the only one to blame, but they couldn't be sure of anything yet.

"Hold your horses, boy. There are still a lot of things we don't know yet. Let Sasha and Milla find out how deep this goes, then we'll move in. As for Lena, ever since she was taken off the case, she refused Truman's offers to let her back in on regular cases and has since worked incognito. I know she's out there, but we can't get her involved again until we know what we're working with. And like me, there's only so much she can do, since we can't do anything inside the system. Now, I know this doesn't seem good, and this case may very well lead to the kind of arrests you hoped you'd never see. It is quite unusual that you've witnessed such rotten business on your first missions." The elder Psychonaut leaned down to look straight into Razputin's eyes. "This is not who we are. Unfortunately, things like this can happen- we are only human beings, after all- but that's why it is up to people like you, me, Nein, and Vodello to make it right."

If not for a mentor like Ford Cruller, the bud of this legend in the making may have been clipped. Or, even worse, it may have been tainted by the acceptance of immorality, bearing fruits of an equivalently self-serving perversion of the law. But the solidity of Razputin Aquato's moral being, enforced by the epic wisdom of the old hero, could stand the debacle with Oleander and any other shock to the Psychonauts' honorable foundation. The boy's eyes burned with a strong and youthful fire.

"Sir, you're absolutely right. Now we just have to wait and see what we're up against. But when it's time to get back into the field, I'll be ready."

Morgan's Pub was a dirty, old bar a few miles away from the city, where Psychonauts Headquarters fit snugly and surreptitiously among sleek, contemporary banks and corporate offices. Sasha adjusted his glasses as he and Milla coolly entered the joint. There was nobody around except for a tattooed couple in the next room playing a round of pool, and the bartender, goateed and dressed in a black collared shirt and old jeans. He noticed them and waved.

"Hey guys, what'll it be?" Sasha approached the table. No one was here to get in the way of their questioning, he thought, so he might as well get to the point.

"We're looking for John Dougherty. Is he around?" The bartender smiled out of the corner of his mouth, pleased to have a memorable enough persona to be asked for.

"Yep, that's me. What can I do for you?" Sasha discreetly searched the bartender's mind for any trace of Agent Hann. The two Psychonauts gathered the man's identity and braced themselves for a struggle. He knew _exactly_ who she was. Milla posed the question aloud.

"Are you familiar with a Mari Hann?" John leaned into the counter and scratched his chin.

"Mari Hann, eh? Yeah, we were buddies in college. She and I used to go fly fishing after Econ class. Great gal, nice ass. Not much in the way of tits, though."

"That is unnecessary," Sasha muttered in disgust. "We're from the P Division: Agents Nein and Vodello." He paused to scan the room for psychic interference as they passed John their badges, and he was satisfied to find there was none. Even the couple playing pool was gone. "We're here because we have a discrepancy in our data and need clarification. We understand that this is no longer solely our case, and we are in no way attempting to interfere with your branch's jurisdiction." John looked at Milla in confusion.

"Does he always talk like that? You spoon-benders have a lot of nerve coming here, stating your business so openly on a case like this one." He narrowed his eyes at them, irritated that a few Psychonauts would come over and meddle with CIA business. He was stationed undercover in that crappy bar for a reason; he was working with Mari on the mission to catch that psycho, Bombay Ellison, but there was more to it than that. Ellison primarily targeted psychics; he was a dangerous terrorist, of course, but he wasn't a top priority, with terrorist threats in the Middle East on the rise. What Agents Nein and Vodello didn't know was that this was no longer just a security issue. Much had been done to keep Grand Head Zanotto from sniffing out undercover inspections, and the fact that two extremely high level Psychonauts were aware of CIA involvement could ruin the entire investigation. The fact that Mari Hann was sent to her death while her captor escaped cleanly was yet another example of how the Psychonauts were in need of reform as a government security branch, and the incident, along with her acquired intelligence, revealed a need for intervention. Unfortunately, the information on her flash drive was not enough for the courts to get involved.

The Psychonauts Agency was born of strange circumstances, and thus it collected around it a complex atmosphere of self-regulation despite its economic dependency on the United States Government. Since they were a discreet branch under the thick cover of scientific experimentation and taboo, and since they were so successful in locating numerous dangers to national security, they adhered only those closest to the Commander in Chief. Ever since the Cold War, the government threw a significant amount of money into Extrasensory Research, but with the Psychonauts as the only successful outlet of many embarrassing attempts, the budget's previous pork-barrel reputation was stunted in the early 2000s. The two intelligence agencies attempted to work together and combine resources, but the Psychonauts were used to their autonomy. The Grand Head, Truman Zanotto, was suspicious of their partner branch, and withdrew as he was convinced that collaboration would lead to an invasive bureaucracy and CIA appropriation of the shared funds. Through years of navigating the legislature and surviving threats of complete dissolution, the Psychonauts emerged as what it is today: a top-secret organization with a cult aura to CIA agents assigned to monitor its activity from time to time, in order to determine their efficacy and ability to manage a highly restricted budget. In these tough economic times, the current statute let them act to the letter of their own law, so long as they kept quiet, produced results, and could run themselves cheaply. They managed to do well enough, but with research to fund and salaries to pay, there were plenty of concerns that further cuts could endanger the division. John Dougherty was one of the few in position to make sure the psychics kept in line, and he wasn't about to abandon his post any time soon.

"Again, we are here to offer evidence to you, Agent Dougherty." Sasha continued in his deep monotone. "Potentially incriminating at a high level of administration. Agent Vodello and I are currently acting without the consent or knowledge of our superiors. We could lose our jobs for accessing Hann's old files, in which she hid a note to find you. They have a level 9 clearance code, and even though we are two of only four Psychonauts on this case, that is above our authority. Obviously, you have the upper hand. We have no desire to, nor can we at this juncture, report on these findings to our division."

Milla continued, recognizing that Sasha's clinical personality wasn't getting through to him.

"We think Mari may still be alive, John. She clearly wanted us to ask you for help. Our mission, given to us by _both_ branches of the government, is to catch Ellison. If the Psychonauts administration is in any way responsible for interfering with our assignment, we are more than prepared to work with the CIA to do the right thing."

Milla's tone was very sincere, and John reconsidered as he remembered what he was once told about the world-class psychics' records. They had, several times, endangered their lives and careers for the resolution of cases and the country's safety over the Psychonauts' position. And yet, the Grand Head, who was clearly not best friends with the other division, kept them on the case which he may have been influencing. But what choice did he have? They were truly the best the Psychonauts ever had, and they were most likely the only hope he had left to keep the situation under some semblance of control. He stared at them as he processed the disconcerting information. The official report stated that Hann died from a stroke after surviving captivity in the target's hideout. The autopsy was conducted normally, with a CIA representative there to sign off on it. However, the information Agent Hann was carrying was highly sensitive, and her last communication with John was brief. Their superiors knew she was about to be deployed to Ellison's location, and although Truman's possible knowledge of her dual-agent status was enough for motive for working with the psychopath, they didn't have enough for a warrant without a spoken agreement or evidence of a faked autopsy, neither of which were present on the disk Mari gave him before her field assignment. It was strange, though. In his last conversation with her, she seemed to know more than she was letting on. He pressured her to talk, but all he could get from her was that look of angry determination she wore more and more as her work deepened. This was an uncanny personality shift in Mari Hann; she began her duties as a strong-willed kid, but towards the end, she was driven by a rage and stubbornness that John wasn't quite able to understand. She was willing to risk her life for some extra information, but for what he didn't know for sure. The investigation to determine whether or not Hann was truly dead was still open, and John knew in this moment that the Psychonauts' two superstar agents were, ironically, the two best equipped to help him.

"Come with me." John opened the door behind him, leading to a large office with a wide-screen computer and bookshelves full of meticulously organized files. In a lighter moment, Sasha would have expressed admiration for the space, in comparison to the utter chaos that was his lab. Truth be told, there was not even time for humor. John handed them a small box, in which Milla pulled out a small flash drive. This was all that Mari was able to gather at HQ before she was sent to her supposed death. They explained the entire situation: the necklace, the memory, the ease of Truman's rescue, and older details of the case. They detailed all they could remember when they went in as the rescue team for Mari and Lena after their mission fell apart. Agent Dougherty offered them coffee, which Milla politely declined. She was jittery enough with all she had to process at once. Sasha, knowing he was in for a longer night than he hoped for, gratefully accepted.

Sasha Nein and Milla Vodello were professionals, and it was their dedication and class that rose them far further in the ranks of the Psychonauts than their finely-tuned skills could take them alone. It is why, in their assessment of Mari's and Lena's graphic rescue that cannot, in good conscience, be fully detailed here, they only now allowed themselves to feel the full weight of their friend's status as a dual-agent. Throughout their time at the Academy, Sasha could tell that Mari was not bound for the same caliber of psychic development as he saw in the others. Her skills, though they burned with a brutal intensity (since they were fueled by anger of a source unknown to Sasha), were unwieldy and had no easily measurable track of improvement. He and Lena thought that maybe she was a late-bloomer, and perhaps it would only take a little more time before she learned to control her abilities. But it didn't happen that way; even upon Milla's entry into the Psychonauts, Mari, in particular, her shooting skills and telekinesis, was unpredictable. It wasn't obvious to him at first that she was an outsider, a member of the government who managed to have enough psychic in her to use as a cover. No, he couldn't believe it for sure until the pressure started to crack her. She wasn't a poor psychic, per se, but she was not by any means excellent. She was far happier in the intellectual side of Psychonauts business; when profiling criminals or analyzing research results, her colleagues found her much stronger in her performance and steadier in her mood. It wasn't until Ford's meltdown when Mari, brought out of the library by the shortage of field agents, visibly lost her patient but intense self. It was close to the time of their last deployment when Lena, having brought her partner back many times from paranoia and night terrors, finally broke down and admitted the struggle to Sasha. They discussed the possibility of her being a CIA agent with Milla and Ford, and they all agreed not to bring it up to Mari and to do all they could to protect any cover she may be trying to keep. They knew that if she was running an investigation, they had no right to jeopardize it.

"So after we extracted them, Lena Frey was still unconscious. There was some bleeding in the brain, but it was not as severe as Agent Hann's condition. Mari's eyes were open, but she appeared to be unaware of her surroundings." Sasha said after a quick sip of coffee. "At the time, she wasn't able to speak, so she took down her testimony as soon as she was able to write in her case files. Needless to say, it wasn't very coherent, but we do know that she was Ellison's guinea pig for electrode treatments. We went with Agent Frey to see her the day before she was declared dead. She was asleep, which was more often the case than not. Agent Frey was still unwell and required supervision. It looked to us that they were both receiving proper treatment and so we had nothing to find suspicious. When Mari died, we were upset, of course, but we believed based on what we saw that the medical staff did everything they could for her. That is, until Agent Cruller found the necklace in Ellison's warehouse and noticed a recent memory. We did more research as quietly as we could, and Mari's files led us to you."

As Sasha detailed all they knew, Milla held the disk in her hand and received a faint projection of Mari's voice in her ear. It wasn't current; Agent Hann placed it there as a memory, but in it Milla could gauge the agent's recent energy levels. They were low but steady, indicating to Milla that Mari was currently comatose, and had been for months. Milla wished that she could reach out to her friend and tell her that they were on their way.

_Zanotto was catching on;_ the voice whispered wearily, _he was looking over his shoulder constantly from making deals with the enemy, but I couldn't hide the consequences of forced psychic development. I just wasn't strong enough. Funny, it's way easier to admit now that I'm almost dead. It ended up being a good thing, actually, since going back to that hell-hole was the perfect way to uncover all the dirt. I knew what was coming to me, but it had to be done this way. Death sentence or not, the only way to bring the Grand Head down for everything he's involved in was to go on that mission and let Bombay Ellison take me again. I know it seems so stupid to put myself in this situation, but if I survived, you wouldn't have Ellison's admission of the scheme before you, nor would Truman be involved with a murder. John doesn't know about the extra device in the Grand Head's office, where everything you can see and hear is recorded in physical form. I know, I know. Why so late? The CIA is far too impulsive when it comes to the Psychonauts. They would have rushed in and ruined it all before Zanotto confessed to everything. As you'll see, he was threatened. As soon as Ellison's powers were elevated but not under control yet, he said he'd go after Truman's family. Our fabulous Grand Head, being the coward that he is, couldn't admit to being incompetent and risk the government shutting it all down or slashing the budget. So he tried to convince Ellison to back off his kid and his wife by taking most of the competent agents off the case long before Ford's duel. He took money from the case and allocated them to other research, too. Things only got worse after Ford was beaten down. He's the only Psychonaut Zanotto really cares about, so the deal was broken for a while and the heavy hitters- Sasha and Milla, if you're there- were sent in to end it. But by then, he had mastered his newfound power. The game changed. To appease him, once Truman thought that I may be keeping tabs on everything, I was fed right back into the scene. It's as good of a rotten deal as you can get, if your opposition is unstoppable. Truman gets just enough calamity to prove that the world still needs __Psychonauts, but it's all at arm's length. Whoever is listening- Lena, Ford, Sasha, Milla- I hope, more than anything, that Truman Zanotto does not bring you down with him. None of you were a part of this, and I tried to keep you out of harm's way. The Bombay Ellison case was parasitic enough, but this senseless corruption made it unthinkably horrible for everyone. I am so sorry. The only thing that I can offer any of you is whatever extra punishment the Grand Head receives from his clear part in my death, along with any new crimes he's likely been involved in since. All I have is there for you to see._

It was all true. Memory after disjointed memory whipped at the speed of thought through Milla's mind, all of them one hundred percent authentic. She could only process each moment in fragments of feeling at first. A panicked voice, begging for Lili's and her mother's safety. A brittle cackle on the other line. Truman's brow furrowing as he calculatingly cancelled Agents Miller's and Fortunata's part in the upcoming mission. Another day, hairs turning grey over the budget sheet. Where wouldn't the extra be noticed? A few studies could use some help. Spread it around, Truman thinks to himself, it won't be sniffed out yet. It'll buy some time for Lili and Eleanor to make it to her grandparents' place. Much later, another call. This one cool and collected, very different from the last few. This time, Truman's voice is the angry one. Ford Cruller was everything the Psychonauts hoped to be, and now he was ripped into splinters. Sasha Nein and Milla Vodello were too close to catching the man on the other end of the phone. Too close because they didn't have him in cuffs or dead yet. Bribes offered, one in particular striking the caller's fancy. Mari Hann, that adequate psychic with the quick mind whose careful attention Ellison clearly could feel. Truman smelled the CIA on her. She isn't just a research type who was too soft for the field. Doesn't matter if she is or not, she's strange, and she's losing her grip on reality. She'll be gone soon; he wants her now that he knows she's been studying him. Ellison even ceased his attacks on civilians for her. She doesn't stand a chance. It was unfortunate that she had to die. Sure, he was wary of her, but he didn't want to be a direct cause of her unbearable suffering. Truman never wanted blood on his hands, but it was the only way to save his family. Ellison was just too powerful to fight. No embarrassing appeals for government help were going to solve anything. The only thing left to do, as much as it aged and pained him to admit it, was to give him what (or who) he wanted until a sufficient alternate plan formed.

A year passes, and Mari is strapped to a wooden plank, crooked nails boring into her skin. Uncomfortable surges of rage and pain ravage her brain as the electrodes shock her into a numbness she had ironically hoped for in her sleepless nights. But still, she wondered, how much longer do I have? Only time will tell if it was worth it, and I won't be around to see for myself. She felt regret for the havoc she wrought on Lena's future, but the only constant that burned in her mind was her thirst for Truman Zanotto's head. In its early stage, it's what brought her to the Academy to train undercover when she began her corruption case on him, when she noticed that generously funded research projects were yielding no results. It built up in her as she watched-and heard- him make ridiculous deals with the man that had killed and experimented on countless agents and civilians alike. When she met Lena, beautiful, sincere, and empathetic, her resolve to humiliate the leader of the Psychonauts may have melted a bit. But even Lena couldn't keep her away for long. Bombay Ellison and Truman Zanotto were just too dirty to slip through her fingers. Sabotaging the case, accessory to kidnapping, extortion from the Agency, they were juicy charges, but it wasn't enough for her. No, she thought to herself, she had to get him even deeper, so that he'll never wash the shame from his conscience. It had to be murder; the goal evolved to this as she realized how much this case went over her head. Whether Truman wanted her dead or not, it was going to happen. She was back in control. In control. The nasal voice of the enemy laughs again from every angle of the pitch-black warehouse. Looks like your little psychic friends aren't coming to save you. This is what happens when you try to work with them. You're an outsider if you aren't enough of a freak. They say they never turn on their own, but I knew they'd turn on you. You're just like me, you know that? Your Grand Head was happy to dump you on me, just so he wouldn't have to answer for our other business arrangements. It's funny, the voice says before Mari faints from the pain, you dying seems to benefit everyone, even you.

Another year, another memory. The voice is now much closer, so close that the breath tickles the ridge of Truman's ear. Just make it stop. Make him stop. I'll do anything. The deal can't be off; I gave her to him. I see her over in the next cell, barely breathing. How long has she been like that? Now it's going to be me. The deal isn't off, says the voice, but let me remind you of who is in charge. You gave me one last close call. Your trained monkeys almost scooped her and her little friend out of here, but you knew better than to let that happen. Didn't you, Truman? It may have been years ago, but I never forget a backstabber. Thanks for returning her to the rightful owner, anyhow. You did realize that I would tell her everything before I killed her, right?

John took down both of their testimonies with nervous eagerness. In fact, through the process of their cooperation, his initially coarse demeanor evaporated, leaving a rather quiet, even-tempered man. When it was finished, he broke the tame mood.

"After all this time, we connect the dots. She's been down there for three fucking years! Legally, your hands were tied; you couldn't go around asking questions after you got her out of there since there was no previous suspicious activity that you were alerted to. There was no reason to question the autopsy. By the time you could have seen anything odd or believed Agent Frey _despite_ her incoherence, you were relocated for good reason. If you had our intel, you would have been able to put it together and we could have more of a chance to make an arrest. We could have taken him in earlier and saved her from all this if she had just given us the information, instead of hoarding it and waiting to die so she could...get some sick satisfaction out of pinning down Zanotto even more!"

"And what could you have done?" Milla replied sadly, her eyes glazing over from the shock of their beloved Grand Head's clear motive and ability to get their dear friend and colleague killed. "You had no power since all the evidence Mari recorded in plain view had no explicit admission or plans to commit all his crimes. Implications, yes, but her location, Zanotto's admission of removal of the other two agents and stealing, and Bombay Ellison's confession were through psychic projection. You couldn't access that and get a warrant without the looks of her weak projection, we know she won't be around for long. I can't believe she waited so he would be an accessory to murder! She's really lost it- she really thinks she has the upper hand. It must have been the post traumatic stress from the case and the torture she's gone through down there that is causing the delusions."

"Or maybe she was always insane. Who the hell knows? We'd better get moving! And now, we have enough to take Zanotto in." John leapt to his feet while Sasha rushed to contact Raz and Ford from Whispering Rock. "I can search him for more evidence while you and your reinforcements get Mari out of there. Do either of you have any idea of where extra devices may be planted at your HQ? Mari said there was one in the Grand Head's office?"

"I have an idea," Milla said, grabbing her coat as the three agents headed out the back door and out into the alleyway behind the bar. "The last note that sent us to you was a puzzle. It said, 'just don't break the fourth wall yet. Ask John first. There's always time to build a bridge with Pal Harold's ghosts.' That's when we knew Truman Zanotto couldn't be overlooked as a part of this- Harold and the S afterwards-"

"Harry S. Truman, ain't that a trip?" John chimed in. "Yeah, that's Agent Hann for you. Thinking she's way smarter than she really is." He laughed, meaning the comment more as a warped endearment than rebuke.

"I think you were correct earlier, Milla. Breaking the fourth wall must be referring to the acting terminology." Unlike his partner, Sasha was not wearing high heels, and could almost walk at John's supernatural pace. The CIA man unlocked the door to his white sedan and handed his coffee to Sasha as he leapt in.

_ "_Exactly." Milla knelt over to the car window. "Check the clock. People stare at the time when they're by themselves in an office, right? Maybe that's the audience, of sorts."

"It's good enough a place as any. Obvious, but Hann wasn't an idiot. She probably understood Zanotto's paranoia well enough to put it somewhere really simple. Where he would expect a sneaky CIA agent to avoid. Check in with me as soon as you find her. I can send backup."

"We'll do what we can. We may not be able to communicate with you until after we leave the site and have Bombay Ellison under control. If we do not return in three hours, send who you can. But he is our most dangerous target for a reason. If the Psychonauts cannot stop him without serious casualties, the likelihood of-" Sasha was cut off abruptly, but Agent Dougherty's tone held a fraction of the severity of their first exchange.

"Nein, there's no time. I'll have plenty of backup; just go in there and get her out of there. I'll get the rest of the recordings and hopefully, we can place Grand Head Zanotto under arrest by the end of the day. Let's hope he doesn't have any tricks up his sleeve."


End file.
